


Wake Up!

by DoodleGal



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Frank being Frank, Frank secretly likes it, He's also got some muscles, Let Quentin Sleep, M/M, Quentin is a bit sassy, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22334860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoodleGal/pseuds/DoodleGal
Summary: Quentin falls asleep during a trial and is woken up by someone unexpected...
Relationships: Frank Morrison/Quentin Smith
Comments: 13
Kudos: 338





	Wake Up!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back!! And with another Morrismith! This is separate from my Unmasked series, not connected in any way. It was just a little something I thought of and had to write. I hope you enjoy!

Sleep was rare in this realm of darkness. No one knew when their next trail would be, you could be pulled anytime, without warning. The instant you close your eyes, you could be whisked away by the fog, transported to a different location and hunted by a killer. Sleep didn't come easy. 

Here, in this world, they didn't exactly _need_ sleep. The Entity kept them healthy and awake enough to attend trials, and most everyone didn't even feel the need to sleep. They were the same as right before they were taken, so if they weren't tired before being taken, they wouldn't be tired here. However, the opposite was also true. If you were tired before being taken, you would still be slightly tired here.

Quentin had been brought into this world _exhausted._ While everyone else was able to stay awake, having no sense of tiredness, Quentin was the opposite. It was a constant battle to stay awake with him, always fighting off sleep and exhaustion. The adrenaline from trials worked well enough to keep him awake, but he often found himself dozing off at the campfire. 

And there was always the threat of Krueger. He was in this realm too, he could probably reach Quentin through his dreams if he wanted to. The boy hadn't seen him yet, but that was probably because he never slept for more than a minute at a time. Quentin wasn't even sure if The Entity would let Freddy have that much power to invade dreams out of trials, but he assumed he could. 

Quentin had asked his friends to wake him up immediately if they saw him fall asleep. He didn't want to take the risk of seeing Freddy. Besides, it's not like anything bad happened from him never sleeping. He just couldn't stay awake like the rest of the survivors. 

Recently, though, Quentin had been finding himself dozing off during trials. This was new, considering the adrenaline he got during trials, and the pain he endured usually kept him awake and alert. But not lately. He knew it was getting bad when he had sleepily walked right into a bear trap he could have easily avoided. That certainly woke him up the rest of that trial. 

Once again, Quentin was having a rough time keeping his eyes open. This trial was at Mount Ormond, and it had just started. He hadn't seen the killer yet, but as always he hoped it wasn't Freddy. He didn't want to deal with him. 

Yawning, Quentin sluggishly made his way to the nearest generator. The cold air stung his nose and numbed his fingers. Maybe that would be enough to keep him awake this trail. Unfortunately, probably not. At this point, only pain would keep him awake. 

Crouching down by a generator, Quentin got to work. The machine rumbled as it pumped to life, vibrating against Quentin's fingers. Said fingers quickly grew warmer as the metal heated up. 

The generator was like a gentle rumble in Quentin's ear. His eyes drooped, and his head nodded. No, he couldn't go to sleep, not right now. He forced himself awake, focusing his attention on fixing the machine in front of him. Unfortunately, this was a losing battle, and Quentin's hands slowed as he drifted off. Soon, he was leaning against the generator, eyes closed, breath soft. He had completely fallen asleep. 

•

The sharp sound of metal being kicked jostled Quentin from his nap. "Wake the fuck up, kid," a voice yelled at him, but he barely heard it. He looked around in a panic, heart racing, until he found the owner of the voice. Quentin yelled in surprise and scurried back, staring up at the mask of The Legion's leader. Frank, if he remembered correctly. 

"What-" 

Quentin was in shock. The killer was standing right in front of him, hands in his pockets and form slouched, and he was _talking_ to him. Not stabbing, not killing. Just... watching. 

"Jesus, fucking finally. You've been asleep the entire trial. Out like a light. Can't believe nothing woke you up," Frank said, taking a step closer to Quentin. 

"What?" Quentin repeated. 

He had been asleep the whole trial? How had he not woken up at all? That was the first time he had slept so long, and in a trial of all places. Wait, if Frank knew he had been sleeping all trial, why didn't he kill him? 

"Why did you let me live if you saw I was asleep? I could have been easy pickings," Quentin voiced his confusion. 

Frank huffed and crossed his arms, looking down at the sleepy survivor. "Dude. You look like shit. Have looked like shit ever since I first saw you. I thought to myself, 'does that guy get any sleep at all?' Like, seriously, it looks like you haven't gotten a good night's sleep in weeks." 

"I haven't," replied Quentin. "Even since before I came here. I had been running on barely three hours of sleep the entire week. I know I look like shit. But why didn't you _kill me?_ " 

"I'm getting there, punk," growled Frank, uncrossing his arms to point his knife at Quentin. The boy tensed in fear, eyes fixated on the knife. 

"I saw you at the start of the trial. Hadn't even hooked anyone yet. Slumped against a barely worked on generator, drooling and snoring and-... honestly, you look disgusting when you sleep." 

"Rude," Quentin interrupted. 

"Shut the fuck up." Frank waved his knife for emphasis. "Anyway, I saw you, and I thought 'hey, maybe if I let this guy sleep he won't look so damn ugly anymore'. And out of the kindness of my heart, I decided to leave you be. I saw you desperately needed the sleep, especially for you to fall asleep in the middle of a goddamn trial. And I left you. I even herded everyone to the other side of the map to give you some uninterrupted sleep. Though I was sure you'd still wake up before the end of it." 

Quentin blinked. Was this guy serious? There was no way a killer would spare someone like this. Let them sleep undisturbed like this. However, there was no other explanation for why he was still alive, and why Frank was talking to him and not killing him. 

"Uh.... thanks," Quentin finally said after a long pause. 

Frank lowered his knife. "You know, kid, even with all that beauty sleep, you're just as ugly." Quentin could practically hear the smirk in his voice. 

"Shut up. I bet you're even worse than me under that mask," Quentin retorted. If he was going to be killed now, he wouldn't go willingly. "That why you hide? Because you don't want anyone seeing your ugly mug?" 

Frank snarled and suddenly Quentin's back was on the ground, pushed over and pinned by Frank's boot on his chest. "Fuck no. I'll have you know I'm the best looking killer in this fucked up place. I'm fucking gorgeous." 

Wow. Frank really swore a lot. A bad personality, and probably bad looks to go with it. Quentin knew he should shut up, but he decided to take a risk. "Prove it," he said. 

Frank paused. He kept his boot on Quentin, staring at him. Finally, he lifted his weight from Quentin's chest. "You know what? Fine. Just to shut your ass up and show you how wrong you are." Frank sheathed his knife and grabbed his mask. 

Quentin sat up and watched with wide eyes, not believing Frank would actually do it. This was a face he was not meant to see. So why was he getting special treatment? He was sure no other survivor had seen any of The Legion's face, let alone the leader's. Yet he was going to see it, right here right now. 

Slowly, Frank unclasped the back of his mask, pulling it off. He shook his head, pulling his hood down. With a-- admittedly sexy-- grin, Frank looked at Quentin. 

"Holy shit." 

Frank let out a laugh, something Quentin found himself strangely enjoying. "See? Told you. I'm one hundred times hotter than you are, kid." 

Yeah, Frank was right. He was hot. He had dark brown, side swept hair, with the left side buzzed shorter, and equally dark, chocolate brown eyes. He had a scar on his lip, and another across his nose. His ears were pierced, black studs barely visible in the darkness. He was overall very handsome, minus that ugly tattoo on his neck. 

"Like what you see?" 

He did. But he wouldn't say it out loud. Quentin was silent as he continued to look at Frank. He looked... human. Well, he was human, but that was a rare sight in this place. Usually the killers were mutilated, larger than life, scary beings. Every killer had something wrong, something that made them not seem human at all. Even the more human looking ones, like Myers. 

Secretly, Quentin had been expecting something to be wrong with Frank's face, something that would make him seem less human. But no. He looked like any other person. He could even pass for a survivor, that's how normal he looked. He was human; he had feelings and urges just like the rest of them. He had empathy, to have let Quentin sleep for so long. He had kindness. 

He was just some guy who wandered down the wrong path and paid the ultimate price of ending up here. 

"You just gonna sit and stare all day or are you going to say somethin'?" Frank spoke up suddenly. 

Quentin shook his head. "Yeah. How old are you?" 

Frank blinked. "Well, that wasn't what I was expecting you to say. I'm nineteen, why?" 

Nineteen. So young for a killer. Quentin had to wonder what he did to end up in this place. He had to have been a killer before, or The Entity wouldn't have taken him. And what about the other members of The Legion? How old were they? Did they kill as well, or did they get wrapped up in all this because of their leader? Quentin wanted to know everything about The Legion, but he highly doubted Frank would just tell him. 

"Nineteen..." Quentin repeated the age to himself. His eyebrow quirked up. "Wait, why do you keep calling me kid, then? I'm older than you." 

Frank scoffed. "What? No the fuck you ain't." 

"Dude. I'm twenty-two." 

Frank's eyes went wide in surprise, then narrowed in anger and disbelief. "You can't be older than fucking sixteen. You're tiny and lanky as hell. There's no way you're in your twenties. I call bullshit." 

Quentin scoffed. "I'm not lanky! I've got a lot of muscle, you just can't see it under my clothes. I used to swim, dude, I literally have a six pack. And I'm only like, and inch shorter than you, I'm not tiny." 

"You? With a six pack?!" Frank let out a hearty laugh. With his mask off, Quentin could see his amused grin and crinkles around his eyes. It was a genuine laugh. "That's fucking impossible. No one as lanky and twiggy as you could have a six pack." 

Quentin huffed, glaring at Frank. He stood up, brushing off his pants, before sliding off his jacket. He didn't like being called lanky, and this way he could shut Frank up. 

"Woah, wait, dude, what are you doing, ew-" 

Quentin ignored him and grabbed the bottom of his shirt, pulling it over his head. The air was chilly, but his blushing face kept him warm. He stood in front of Frank, bare chested, nipples hard from the cold, and face flushed. This definitely wasn't a situation he thought he'd be in. Ever. But here he was. 

"Dude. What the fuck." 

Sure enough, underneath that jacket and shirt, hid a slight six pack. It was barely there, but still visible, and still very real. Quentin had worked out a lot before all this happened. After all, he was a swimmer, he had to keep in shape. Swimming only helped his body stay in shape. 

When he was brought to this place, his form never changed. He didn't think it could. Everything stays the same from how you were when you were brought here. However, even if that weren't the case, Quentin believed he'd be able to keep in shape with how much he ran and jumped and pulled himself off hooks. 

"See? Six pack." 

Frank shook his head, eyes glued to Quentin's stomach. Was that a blush on his face? Quentin felt himself smirk. 

"You're.... fucking... Jesus Christ, just put your shirt back on, I get it." Frank finally averted his eyes, his cheeks reddening even further. 

Quentin grinned. He managed to make Frank, a _killer,_ embarrassed. He felt strong, proud. He felt as though he could overpower Frank, but that was unlikely due to the supernatural strength The Entity gives all the killers. In a normal place, Quentin could definitely beat Frank in a fight of strength. Frank was a twig. 

Quentin chuckled lightly before putting his shirt and jacket back on. He shivered only slightly, quickly warming back up. Frank peeked to see if Quentin was decent before turning back to him. 

"You're a bitch," he said, his face still red. 

"Thanks," replied Quentin. 

Somehow, in this short period of them talking, Quentin had relaxed. His guard was still raised, but only slightly. He felt calm, comfortable even, around Frank. Like he was talking to a good friend. It was strange, how easily he warmed up to a killer. Frank was just so different from the other killers, so human. 

"So..." Quentin began, "you gonna give me the hatch?" 

Surprised washed over Frank's face, as if he had completely forgotten about the hatch. However, that look quickly faded and was replaced by a teasing one. "And why should I give you the hatch?" 

Quentin sighed. Of course he wouldn't be let off that easily. "Well, you seem like a nice guy. When you're not killing me and my friends that is. So I figured, since you've kept me alive the entire match and have spent these past minutes talking to me, you'd let me go." 

Frank barked out a laugh. "You think I'm just going to let you go? Just like that? No." Frank grinned and took out his knife, leaning in close. He caressed the blade gently across Quentin's cheek. "I think I'll keep you here a bit longer. You know, The Entity wants me to kill you. It's in my head, screaming at me to just sacrifice you already. And I'm resisting, because I want to play with you, Quentin. You're quite the interesting survivor." 

Quentin gulped, his eyes locked onto Frank's. He could feel his pulse quicken at the threat of death. That knife was inches away from slicing his neck. However, Quentin managed to keep his cool. "You know, I'd probably do anything to get that hatch. I really don't feel like getting impaled by freaky alien spider legs right now." 

Frank's grin only grew, and he suggestively raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Anything?" He hummed. "Then how about you suck my cock?" 

Quentin's face shot up in flames, his eyes wide. He coughed in embarrassment. "Okay maybe not anything." 

Frank frowned. "Man, you're no fun. You look like you could take dick like a champ, so I thought I'd give it a shot." He pulled his knife back, resting it at his side. 

Quentin, his face still a bright red, visibly relaxed. He was not expecting something like that to come out of Frank's mouth. He knew the killer was vulgar, but to say something like that? Was Frank attracted to him or something? Now Quentin was flustered, embarrassed, and desperately wanting to leave. As much as he enjoyed talking with Frank, it was about time he left. 

"You know, Quentin, I like you. You're one of the few survivors that aren't annoying, and are actually interesting to go against every time," Frank said, surprising Quentin even more. "Maybe in a different world we could-" 

Frank's sentence was interrupted by a loud, bell-like toll. The ground beneath them shook, and glowing, red cracks appeared all around them. Quentin lost his balance and fell straight on his ass, while Frank only wobbled and used the nearby generator to steady himself. 

"Shit," Frank cursed. "I didn't even close the hatch. What the fuck?" 

The Entity must have been angry at them. It must have activated this end game collapse on Its own, annoyed that Its killer wasn't sacrificing this survivor. Now with limited time, Quentin had to leave fast or he would die in a most unpleasant way. 

Quentin glanced at Frank. The killer was gripping his knife tightly, seemingly angry that his talk with Quentin was interrupted. Just how long was he planning on keeping the survivor with him? Well, now he had a choice to either let him go or sacrifice him. 

"Can I get the hatch now?" Quentin dared to ask, standing up and dusting off his pants once again.

Frank glared at him then scoffed. "Shit. Fucking-... fine, but only because I enjoyed this talk. You've got me in a good mood so I'll spare you. Follow me."

Frank turned on his heals and walked away quickly, barely giving Quentin enough time to follow him. The ground suddenly shook again, that loud bell ringing once more. The cracks in the ground grew brighter, increasing in size. They were running low on time. 

Soon, Quentin could hear the faint whooshing sound of the hatch. As they approached it the sound grew louder, and soon they were right on top of it. Frank pointed at it with his knife. 

"Alright, go right ahead. Was nice talking to someone other than my Legion for once. Next time I won't be so merciful though, remember that," he said. 

Quentin nodded. He also enjoyed talking to Frank. It was very different from what he was used to. Everyone else at the campfire was nowhere near as interesting as Frank, so this was a nice change of pace. Besides, Frank was the only killer he's ever talked to, and he was possibly the only survivor to actually converse with a killer like this. 

The ground shook once more, even stronger this time, and Quentin knew he had to leave now. He gave Frank one last look. 

"It was nice talking to you too. Maybe we could talk like this again sometime," Quentin said. He actually did want to see Frank again. The guy was hot, and this conversation had been amusing, so of course he wanted to see him again. 

Frank huffed, a slight grin on his face. "Yeah, maybe. Now get the fuck out before I change my mind." 

Quentin smiled and nodded. He shuffled himself onto the ground and dangled his legs into the hatch, ready to drop down. 

"Oh, and Quentin?" 

The survivor paused and looked up. Frank smirked. "Try not to fall asleep next trial," he said, then slipped on his mask. 

Quentin grinned. "Gotcha." Then, he dropped into the wispy darkness of the hatch, letting it consume him.


End file.
